The Gift
by soavezefiretto
Summary: Willow confronts the gang as she and Spike prepare to move against the Initiative. Will friendship find its way? Will new bonds be created? Please r&r, this is a work in progress. **NOW COMPLETE**
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I didn't invent "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (if I had, my current residence would probably be a room with padded walls), and I'm not making any profit out of this.  
  
Summary:What effect will Willows selfless, unexpected gift have on Spike? And on Willow? More chapters coming up soon!  
  
Comment:This is set in season four, that's what we're getting right now in Madrid. I KNOW what's in store for Spike, but I am choosing to ignore it, ok?  
  
Review:Yes, please!! This is my first Buffy-fic, and although I love the show, I haven't actually had the chance to watch it a lot,so be gentle. Let me know if there is something absolutely wrong with the contents or with my english, since it's not my native language. And make sure to let me know if you actually LIKED it!!:))  
  
  
  
The Gift  
by  
Miranda  
  
  
  
Chapter I  
  
  
Spike had never been so cold in his life. A few hours ago it would have held some appeal to ponder the irony of the situation, since he had been a dead, cold-blooded creature for the last two hundred years. But despair had him completely in its grip now, there was no room for irony or even for some detachment. He knew something much, much worse than death awaited him, and he wouldn't have admitted it to anyone - but he was afraid.   
  
He cowered in a corner of the brightly lit cell where he had been for... five days now? Six? A week? No night and no day; no food, no drink, no blood; no voices, no noises; no changes; no nothing. The low hum and the steady glare of the lights was slowly driving him crazy, but they somehow withstood the blows of his fists when he tried to smash them.  
  
That had been at the beginning, when he couldn't stop cursing and shouting. He was so angry with himself, he couldn't believe he'd let those bloody G.I.-Joes of the Initiative catch him again. That bitch of a slayer, probably shagging all the boy-scouts in turn, while the others looked on and discussed what kind of experiment they would turn him into.  
  
That was what he feared: Spike knew these people had the means to do with him what they wanted. If they had wanted him dead, they would have driven a stake through his heart long ago, and it was obviously not enough for them to just put the bloody chip in his brain and let him loose, so WHAT DID THEY WANT?  
  
That thought had kept him busy for the first three days. That was when he suddenly noticed they hadn't fed him in all that time. Now all he could do was lay crouched on the floor, retching dryly from the cramps in his empty stomach, shuddering, and all he could think was: "Cold. Hunger. Hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger. Cold cold cold cold cold." And in between, not even knowing what it meant anymore, Spike thought a tiny little word: "Please... please..."  
  
  
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"Explain to me again WHY we can't just let him there." Xander was looking up to Buffy and shaking his head incredulously.  
  
Giles answered the question. "Because we don't know what they are going to do with him."  
  
"The problem with that being...?"  
  
Buffy was losing her patience. "Xander, didn't you listen to anything I said? They do experiments down there, ok?, all kinds of experiments. From what I saw, I think they are trying to make some kind of a... a super-demon, putting together the strongest and most evil parts of every demon and creature thay can get their hands on. Spike is bad enough as he is, the least thing we need right now is some kind of super-evil Spike making our lives more interesting."  
  
"So, the idea is to rescue him before they turn him into... whatever it is they want to do with him." Willow looked up from her books. She was kneeling in front of the coffee table in Giles' living-room.   
  
"Yes, and let's hope he's grateful enough to let us share some of the information we'll need to get rid of that - Initiative once and for all." Giles was pacing the room nervously. Demons and evil creatures from the dark were one thing he was used to, but he wasn't used to dealing with the... the military, the government, the CIA or whatever those people were, and frankly, he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. He-  
  
"Excuse me..."  
  
"Ok, we have to move tonight, we don't know how long he's been there or what they've already done with him. Willow, I'm going to need you to help me bypass all those security systems. Once we're in-"  
  
"Uhm... I hate to interrupt all your brilliant strategic planning, Buffy, but, I think tonight you will be... otherwise engaged."  
  
"Oh, I know I said we'd go to that party at the Bronze, but this is-"  
  
"This is not about the party!" Willow felt ashamed and angry. Why would Buffy assume she was even thinking about a party at a time like this, when they were obvioulsy in a critical situation? More critical than they knew...  
  
"It's the Feast."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The Feast of Darkness. There have been these signs over the last three days and the stars are right too, so..."  
  
"What signs? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Here, look." Willow stood up and walked over to Giles with an open book in her hands, although it had been Buffy who'd asked the question.  
  
"Mystic circles... unusually low demon and vampire activity... sunshine... oh my god, Willow, you are right! How could I have forgotten?"  
  
"Giles, what!!"  
  
"The Feast of Darkness. It's a gathering of about every demon, evil witch and sorcerer there is. They convene whenever the stars are in one of a series of very specific constellations and their goal is to cause-"  
  
"The end of the world." Xander sighed resignedly. Then his face lit up. "So, I'd say this Feast thing is our top priority now, is it? Spike will just have to look after himself for now." And if we're lucky, he'll be dust by the time we can rescue him. He didn't express that caritative thought, though, so why was Willow glaring at him like that?  
  
"We can do both. Buffy and Giles, you go to Sunnydale High, where the library used to be. That's where the Feast is going to take place in... exactly one hour. The demons they have down there in the... headquarters or whatever they call it will be giving them a hell of a time, trying like mad to get out of their cells to attend the Feast. So it should be easy for me to slip through the chaos, bypass security, and get Spike out of there. If everything goes smooth, we could meet here in two hours, have saved the world AND Spike, and know a lot more about what they're actually doing doen there in the bargain."  
  
For a moment everyone was silent.  
  
"Talking about brilliant strategic planning...", Giles finally said.  
  
"Giles... you're not actually suggesting we let Willow do this on her own?"  
  
"No. Xander will go with her."  
  
"Are you out of your mind? No way! Anything could happen to her! No, we'll go to this Feast thing together and then we'll take care of Spike, and-"  
  
"Will you listen to me for one time in your life, Buffy?!" Willow was facing her friend, her fists clenched, her voice tight. "We have no time for this! You yourself said we had no time to loose with Spike, or we'll soon have a very big problem. Supposing YOU prevent the end of the world. That's you job, remember? The evil forces of the Darkness are already gathering, and you and I know that if we go with you, I would just stand around, shrieking whenever a demon hits you over the head. There is no spell I can do to prevent this. The only solution is kill as many powerful demons as you can, so the others get discouraged and go back where they came from, until there are not enough left of them to do a spell that's powerful enough to cause the end of the world. See, it's all here in the book. You have to go NOW, and you have to take Xander; he can kill one or two demons if he puts his mind to it."  
  
"Oh, thank you Willow."  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah, I know." They smiled at each other.  
  
Buffy looked at Willow and opened her mouth. Where were all her reasonalble objections? She turned.  
  
"Ok, Giles, Xander, we'll meet in front of High School in ten minutes, get your gear together. Willow... anything, I mean ANYTHING goes wrong, and you're out of there, with or without Spike. He might be a problem, but aproblem we can fix, and we can't fix loosing you."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"I MEAN this." With one last worried look at her friend, Buffy ran out of the house. Willow grabbed her laptop and followed her. She could feel Xanders and Giles' eyes on her back, but she didn't turn around. She was going to get Spike back. That was all that mattered. And not once had she asked herself WHY that was so important to her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
  
Willow had never seen someone so completely helpless. Was this Spike the defiant, Spike the dangerous, the Spike that would do anything and fear nothing? This haggard man,taking in air in gasps, leaning against a wall that wasn't as pale as his skin? If she hadn't been supporting him with her arm, he would have slumped down to the floor again. That's how she'd found him, a miserable huddle in a corner of an awfully white cell, uttering the most miserable sounds.  
  
She had managed to lower the lights using the same security bypass that had granted her access into the facilities and into Spike's cell. The Initiative seemed to be convinced that no one could find them out anyway, so once you were actually in, security wasn't such a big deal. Soldiers did what they were ordered to, they didn't sneak around. Willow shuddered at the thought of the inhuman coldness of it all, the lack of compassion.  
  
She had propped Spike up angainst the wall, and he had opened his eyes and looked at her, but Willow didn't think he actually recognised her. He wasn't even able to focus on her for longer than a couple of seconds, and she realised she wouldn't be able to get him out of there without help.   
  
"Oh, Spike, what have they done to you?" Willow didn't even bother to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. "What are we going to do?" She could hear demons growling and hurling themselves against the walls in the neighbouring cells, and there was the heavy sound of boots on the run everywhere, mixed with shouts that pretended to keep the anxiety down with clipped, harsh professionalism: "Over here! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, MOVE! Hold them!" No one had the time to look into a cell where nothing was stirring.  
  
"Please... please..." What had come out of Spike's mouth was nothing more than a tiny whisper, but it made Willows heart ache more than anything ever had, and she'd been through some heartache recently. She held him tighter against her, racking her brain for a way out of this horrible place. He was too weak, he wouldn't be able even to walk the few hundred meters to the elevator. It was obvious they hadn't fed him for a long, long time. What could she do, WHAT?  
  
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Wet. Sweet. So delicious... Was he hallucinating? Could one actually TASTE hallucinations? But no, this was real. Real blood on his lips, his tongue, dripping slowly into his mouth. Spike could feel his body absorbing it, he could feel strength coming back to him, but slowly, so slowly... Instinctively he brought his head forward, towards the source that was giving back his life to him. His lips met flesh, and he bared his fangs. He would drink, drink long and deep, and then he would open his eyes and look at his victim and he would be himself again, Spike the Evil, William the Bloody...  
  
A searing pain ripped through his head. His body was thrown back in convulsions, and suddenly there was no more blood. Where was it? He needed it, he needed-  
  
"Sshshsh, it's allright, Spike, it's allright... You can't bite me, the chip, remember? You'll just have to take what I can give you."  
  
Spike opened his eyes. Willow was looking down at him, trying awkwardly to hold her bloodsmeared arm to his mouth, so he could reach it comfortably. He winced and recoiled.  
  
"Willow? What...?"  
  
"Look, there's no time, I'll explain when we're safely out of here, ok? Just eat a little more and tell me when you think you're ready to walk. Only don't take too much time, once Buffy and the others prevent the Feast, the demons will calm down and someone will come check on you."  
  
She held out her arm to him again. Spike could see two or three not very deep incisions, blood all over her arm, her hand, even her face and her hair. "You cut yourself?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"For me?"  
  
"Well, there was no time to go to the butcher or anything." She smiled warmly, and was she actually stroking his hair? "Do you think you can move now?"  
  
He tried to get up, but his knees wouldn't hold him. "I'm sorry, I can't..."  
  
"It's allright, don't worry. You look much better. Just have some more. Here."  
  
"Willow, I can't..." Why was he refusing this young, fresh blood, offered to him freely, generously, blood he wouldn't have to kill for, but that was going to save his life instead - or what passed for it?  
  
Willow brought her arm with the open, bleeding wounds to his mouth without another word. She was looking down at him seriously; Spike could see compassion in her eyes, and the fear of being caught, and worry for her friends - and something else, something he couldn't quite name. But there was no fear of him, or repulsion at what she was doing.  
  
This was a gift, and he knew he had to accept it as it was offered: with no questions, no regrets, expecting nothing in return, for no reason except the act of giving.  
  
Spike bent his head and drank. He could feel Willow sigh softly above him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Comment:Thanks for friendly and encouraging reviews. Chpater 4 will probably be up by this evening (local time).  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
"We're still here, so is it safe to assume the world didn't come to an end?" Willow greeted her friends happily. "Oh my God, Giles, are you all right?"  
  
There was an ugly bruise all over Giles' forehead, Xander was limping and groaning, and all of their clothes were caked in mud.  
  
"Yeah, it was quite a party", sighed Buffy. She tossed her stake aside and was about to throw herself with relish on the couch.  
  
"Buffy! No!" Buffy snapped around, panic flickering in her eyes, grabbing blindly for her stake. Then she froze with her arm raised in mid-air. Spike was laying on the couch, covered with a blanket up to his chest, his eyes closed. He had not even stirred when Giles, Xander and Buffy had come in, raising a considerable brouhaha. Now Willow was laying a finger against her mouth and making "shshssh".  
  
"He needs to rest."  
  
"So, you got him out." Xander's voice was pretending to be neutral, but his eyes were hard. Buffy looked down at Spike's still body with some curiosity. Only Giles stepped forward with actual concern, looking from Willow to Spike and then back again.  
  
"Did you have any problems?", he asked, making an effort to keep his voice low.  
  
"No, everything went just as planned. It wasn't all that complicated to hack into their security system, and once in there, there were demons going crazy all over the place, so no one really paid attention to me or what was going on in Spike's cell."  
  
"Did they do anything to him?", asked Buffy cautiously. She had never felt quite comfortable being in the same room with Spike, and somehow he seemed more of a menace to her now that he lay motionless before her, although he was so obviuosly at her mercy. Maybe it would be best for them all - including him - to just put a stake through him be done with it once and for all... But first, the information.  
  
"I don't know." Willow's voice was strained. She had to look away from Spike to keep it from trembling. He still looked very pale and ill, and she couldn't help seeing him again and again in that white cell, so small suddenly, so... alone. "He was very weak when I found him, I think they have been depriving him of food. And I know his chip is still working. Other than that, I can't tell. He's been too weak to speak. I could barely get him to walk out of there."  
  
"How do you know about the chip?"  
  
"Well, I told you he was weak from hunger, Xander. Don't you think he would have bitten me if the chip hadn't been working?"  
  
"Did he?" Buffy's eyes went to Willow's neck.  
  
"No! I already told you! Is that all you can think about? Look at the state he's in, look what they've done to him, for Gods sake! How can you still worry about how dangerous he is? HE isn't the one who's dangerous. The people who've done this to him, they are the ones we should be worried about!"  
  
The tears that had been stinging behind Willow's eyes all this time finally flowed freely. Xander looked at her in utter shock, he'd never thought Willow could react so strongly about anything, let alone Spike. Buffy's eyes narrowed. Giles laid a reassuring hand on Willow's shoulder.   
  
"You're tired and overexcited. We all are, it's been a hard day." He touched the bruise on his forehead gingerly. "My suggestion is, we all get some rest, then we eat something, and then we can talk things over. Willow is right, now that we have prevented the Feast, the Initiative is our main problem."  
  
"So now we have an evil, bragging vampire, who would drain us all if he just had a chance, lying the couch, and he's our poor, poor victim, and the guys who've been trying to get rid of him are the baddies?"  
  
"Xander? How about a shower? You stink to high heaven." Giles' tone was final, and there was an edge to his voice that reminded them of why he was the Watcher, and that there was not only mildness in those eyes.   
  
Xander shuffled out, muttering under his breath. Buffy and Giles' decided they would all meet again early mext morning. "Willow, you coming?"  
  
"Ah, yeah, sure, I just have to get my computer and stuff. You just go ahead, Buffy."   
  
Willow hated herself for lying, but she hadn't liked the way Buffy's eyes had narrowed a moment ago when she was trying to explain where the real danger was. She had expected some resistance on Xander's part, more out of worry for her than anything else, but certainly not from Buffy. Not after Adam and Riley, not after everything they had seen. Not after what they had done to Spike. Willow had seen a something cross Buffy's eyes as she was looking on Spike on the couch, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it meant.  
  
"Ok, seeya." Buffy went out the door, too exhausted to expend more energy on analysing Willow's unusual behaviour. All that would have to wait.  
  
"You're not leaving, are you?" Willow couldn't read Giles' face as he stood confronting her. But she wouldn't lie to him - not until she absolutely had to. (Now why would she think THAT?!?)  
  
"No, I'd like to stay until he wakes up, in case he needs something." Good, she had managed to keep her voice firm but casual. No big deal.  
  
Giles' expression softened. "Willow, go to sleep. I'll be here, I'll take care of him, I promise."  
  
Willows firmness faltered. Only a surge of hot anger helped her hold back her tears. This was definitely NOT the time to go all crybaby. If she did that, Giles would not take her seriously when she needed him to. (Now, again, what kind of a thought was that??)  
  
"Well, I think it would be better if I am around when he wakes up. He'll probably be disoriented, confused, but he'll remember me getting him out of there, so I'm the logical person to be here and help him adjust."  
  
Frankly, this didn't sound very logical to Willow, but she was bargaining on Giles' all to apparent tiredness, and on the fact that he seemed to be the only one who actually understood, up to a point, how she felt by what the Initiative had done to Spike.  
  
It worked. Giles yawned, gestured to the armchair that stood facing the couch and said: "My pleasure. You can use the spare room if you want to take a more comfortable nap, and feel free to use the bathroom once I'm done."  
  
She smiled. "Thanks, Giles."   
  
But there would be no shower, no spare room, and certainly no nap. She would sit there and watch Spike and wait for him to wake up. And while she did, she would pray to all the good Gods and friendly Godesses that, once Spike opened his eyes, they would be clear again, that the look of muddled pain and despair that had met her in the cell would be gone. Because if it wasn't - well, small, and plain, and unremarkable as she was, she would have to do something about it. Probaly she would have to do it alone. And it wouldn't be nice. 


	4. Chapter 4

Comment:Well, I don't know if midnight qualifies as "evening"... What can I say, there was a rerun of "War and Peace" on TV, and I was never one to resist Henry Fonda or Tolstoi, let alone both:) Chapter 5 coming up soon, promise. I can't believe this, but I actually having IDEAS here!! Special thanks to Orin for extensive and extremely helpful comments.  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
Spike had been laying there, eyes closed, listening to a clock tick somewhere. He knew he was being watched, he could feel it on his skin. He strained his ears to catch some other sound, any sound that would help him decide if he was still at the Initiative's facilities under Sunnydale or - somewhere else.  
  
Finally he opened his eyes. There was the readhaired girl, sitting in an armchair right in front of him. Watching him. Spike shifted uneasily under his blanket. Why would someone put a blaket over a person that was already dead, anyway? To prevent him from catching a bloody cold?  
  
"What are you looking at?", he barked.  
  
Willow had to repress a smile. Well, at least he was being his usual grumpy self. His harshness didn't make her afraid or shy, on the contrary, it eased her mind from the heavy thoughts and presentiments that had been weighing down on it. A little.  
  
"You."  
  
All Spike could do was blink, taken aback. Not that she had been unfriendly, she actually seemed rather concerned for him (now wonders upon wonders), but he wasn't used to this kind of directness from little Red. He tried to come up with a repartee with a sting to it, but his mind was all blurry, he couldn't focus. When he tried to get up on his elbow, he was overcome with nausea.  
  
"Hey, you gotta take it easy for a while! Here, try some of this. It's still warm." Willow offered him a teacup ("Kiss the librarian"!) full of warm blood.  
  
Spike grabbed for it, nostrils widening, and took a few sips greedily, not even tasting what he was drinking. Then he looked up, ridges protruding, eyes flaring yellow. He wanted to growl at the girl, to chase her away, but something restrained his demon. Instead, he averted his face until it looked human again. He didn't want her to see him like this.  
  
"What happened? What am I doing here? And why am I feeling so bloody sick?"  
  
"Don't you remember?" The girl was searching his face anxioulsy. Didn't like what she just saw, he supposed. Although - Spike had the strangest feeling she was looking for something, waiting for something... Ah, bloody hell, this headache was going to kill him! - so to speak.  
  
Willow hesitated. Should she tell him what had really happened right away? Spike was apt to run havoc on her and then collapse again out of shear weakness. But no, she couldn't lie to him. This was too serious, and he would hate her if he found out later that she hadn't told him. Besides, she didn't want anyone else to tell him. After seeing him in his cell, after what had happened there, this was a personal matter to her. Did he remember, she wondered?  
  
"The Initiative got you again. They had you isolated in a cell in their facilities under the town. We just got you out."  
  
His expression didn't change. Willow drew a deep breath and carried on.  
  
"You were very weak, could hardly speak or move. Did these - did they feed you at all?"  
  
But Spike wasn't listening to her anymore, he was looking through her. White walls all around him, above him, beneath him, everywhere. No solacing shadow to escape to, to hide in. And the steady, low hum of the lights, burrowing into his mind, louder and louder, until there was nothing else, only that sound, and the light, and the sound, and he was nothing but a scream -  
  
There it was: the pain, the wild hopelessness in his eyes. Oh, whoever could do something like this to someone as tough as Spike deserved to be punished. Yes, this had to stop. Willow wanted to reach out to him and tell him it would be allright, they would never hurt him again, and then, that tortured look in his eyes would disappear and everything WOULD be allright... But she knew that Spike wouldn't want to be comforted right now.  
  
Suddenly, Spike was shaken by violent spasms. It almost sounded as if he was fighting for breath, wich was impossible, since he didn't need to breathe. His hands clawed into thin air, the heels of his boots banged against the couch's armrest. Willow jumped up and rushed to his side, but he shoved her away.  
  
"No! I'm fine - I just..."  
  
Willow sat down and waited patiently until he was calm again. She didn't even try to conceal the pain and worry on her face, and Spike gazed at her in wonder for a moment before speaking again.  
  
"I remember... I remember the cell. I thought they would come and do some experiments, something with my chip, you know?"  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
"But they didn't come." He was staring past her again. He remembered now, trying to keep track of the time counting to thousand and then starting again, using the buttons of his duster just as if... the image of a rosary popped into his mind. Spike shuddred. But then he couldn't arrange the numbers properly in his mind anymore, so he tried to think of songs, stories, even poems he had written. But by that time all he could do was listen to that noise, to that godawful noise, and wish for it to stop, but it wouldn't, it wouldn't...  
  
For a second he looked almost dumbfounded. Then his expression snapped to alertness again. "How did you get me out of there exactly?"  
  
"Well, it wasn't that difficult to bypass their oh-so-secret security system, you know. These guys seem to think everyone is so afraid of their might and power no one would even try to cheat on them. And there was this demon-ritual going on wich Buffy and the others were taking care of, and all the demons in the other cells were... well, extremely lively" - Willow winked and smiled mischievously at this, and was pleased when he smiled back, a rather confused smile though - " and had the G.I.-Joe's really busy, so, anyway, it was practically a walk in the park. No big deal."  
  
"No big deal." Spike's eyes narrowed. "You mean you went in there on your own?"  
  
"Well... yes, I told you, Buffy and Giles and Xander had to prevent the end of the world!"  
  
"Again?" Spike rolled his eyes. "Why don't they get a hobby, like modelling bloody trains or knitting navy-sweaters or something? Anyway, what did you do, transport me out of there, as in 'Scotty, beam me up'? You didn't carry me, and I didn't walk, that's for sure, not in the state I was in."  
  
Why was it that he didn't seem to mind speaking to Willow about the pitiful state he had been in? Or, worse, knowing that she had actually seen him like that? He would rather have his heart slowly chewed to pieces by rabid rats than have Buffy know about it, or that stupid Xander. Must be that he still wasn't in his right senses. Must be that. Too bloody weak...  
  
"You walked." The girl was staring straight into his eyes, with something burning in them that Spike had never seen there before, something like - pride?  
  
Suddenly, there was a flash of white flesh in his mind, flesh all soaked in blood. A sweet, fresh taste on his lips, his tongue. A pair of calm eyes...  
  
"I bit you?", he shouted, forgetting about the chip. "Did I?"   
  
There was no good reason to be so terribly upset, now was there?  
  
"No, you didn't. I cut myself. With the needle on my pin." The same steady, unwavering look, straight into his eyes, holding them. Was she using a spell on him? What was this little brat doing to him? And had he drank her blood? Had she offered it to him freely? Did she even know what that meant?  
  
"Well good morning, slept well, old chap?"   
  
Giles spoke louder than usual. Quickly he stepped across the room and placed himself in front of the couch on wich Spike was still laying. He didn't like the heavy atmosphere in there, and it wasn't from closed windows. Something - tingled in the air, some kind of static or electricity, and there was the strangest look on Willow's face. And Spike, Spike was staring at her as if - Giles couldn't quite place his expression, but he was sure he had seen it somewhere before.  
  
As Spike turned around and began to cuss out Giles, Willow quietly withdrew, gathered her things and slipped out of the door, without any of the two men noticing. 


	5. Chapter 5

Comment:This one is a tiny little bit more... shall I say "philosophical", especially towards the end, since I felt I had to explain what's behind the different character's attitudes and decisions. Bear with me, Spike will be back in action soon!:)Thanks to all my reviewers, this is working thanks to you!  
  
Orin, noticed what I did with the song?  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
A cold shadow set loose. That's what Spike looked like as he ran across the street in front of Giles' house, his black duster pulled over his head to provide shelter from sunlight. He didn't even notice Willow, since she was approaching from the opposite direction. She saw the sun sparkle on the metallic clasps on his boots, the reflection made her close her eyes for a second. When he was gone, she looked up into the clear blue sky. What a beautiful day, Willow thought.  
  
Buffy glared at her when she opened the door.  
  
"Where the hell have you been?"  
  
"Didn't Giles tell you? I was here all the time, I-"  
  
"Yeah, he told me, playing babysitter for poor little Spike, holding his hand in case he had a bad dream! And then you just disappear! We were supposed to meet early in the morning, remember? It's past eleven now!"  
  
Willow didn't have much practice shouting at people, and she was too tired to argue anyway, too tired to feel personally insulted. She was so tired... She crossed the room and sat down on the couch.  
  
"I'm sorry", she said, to no one in particular. Then she turned to Giles and Xander, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. "So, what happened?"  
  
"Well, Spike seems to-"  
  
But Xander interrupted Giles. He was obviously not in his best mood either. "Spike wants us to blow the Initiative to pieces, like, NOW, and when we said no way, he gave us a detailed description of exactly how he would tear us to tiny little pieces whenever he gets a chance. Then he left, not without promising a big BOOM for Sunnydale's enjoyment very soon. That's what happened. Trust your friend Spike to brighten up any day."  
  
"But did he say anything about what happened to him down there? Did he see or hear anything? What did they do to him?"  
  
"He wasn't very articulate on that point", Buffy sighed. "He just kept on rambling about how evil those people were, how dangerous, and how the only option was to kill them all. I think he even said they were inhuman monsters - ha, look who's talking!"  
  
"Well... I think he may be right", Willow said quietly. And so it starts, she thought.  
  
"What: you think we should blow up all of Sunnydale's underground too?" Buffy had flopped on the couch beside Willow and was obviously not taking her seriously. She seemed otherwise preoccupied.  
  
"No, but I think these people ARE dangerous, and that we should do something."  
  
Giles took off his glasses and began to clean the spotless lenses with a handkerchief. "The fact, Willow, is that we know very little about 'these people', as Spike and you seem fond of calling them. I think the wise thing to do is wait and see how things develop."  
  
"At least until Riley is out of the hospital. He will give us all the information we need, and then we can move on from there", Buffy said, and a certain posessive little smile curved her lips. Willow knew it well, it was always there when Buffy had a new boyfriend who had put her an a mile-high pedestal and loved her to distraction. Oddly enough, in spite of all her admiration for the Slayer, Willow had never envied her friend on that particular point. That was not the way she wanted to be loved. - But now was not the time to think about love. This might be war.  
  
"I- I'm sorry, but I don't get you guys. I mean, what more information do you need? We've seen what they've done to Riley and the other... soldiers or whatever they are, we've seen Adam, we've seen what they've done to Spike - do you need more proof?"  
  
"Look, Willow." Buffy had adopted a soothing, sweet tone, as if she were talking to a little child. "For all we know, it could have been just professor Walsh having some egotrip. Maybe she built Adam ignoring her superiors. Maybe the Initiative is really meant to be a good thing. Our lives could be so much easier if we could all work together... Just think about it! Do you want to risk a chance like that, just because Spike, a vampire responsible for the death of thousands of innocents, whom I should have slayed a long time ago anyway, said they were not being so nice to him?"  
  
"Buffy is right, Willow", said Giles. "In spite of everything, I am still not convinced that the Initiative is not actually working towards a higher purpose. There is so much we still don't know..." Xander at his side nodded emphatically.  
  
"So this is what it's all about? You just don't want anything to change, you're just making up this absurd fantasy about Walsh and good intentions and whatnot becouse you're not ready to accept that Spike might be right, and that a bunch of goodlooking guys from Iowa in uniforms that say they work for the government CAN be worse than one vampire who can't help being what he is."  
  
"Willow, what are you talking about?"  
  
"You know what I'm talking about."  
  
Willow couldn't stop the bitterness she felt from trickling into her voice, poisoning it. She had come to the house this morning fearing exactly this. She knew her friends too well. Yet for a moment, while she was looking up into the sky standing on the street in front of Giles' house, she had hoped they would understand. They had been together for so long, had been through so much, had grown up together in more than one way. Now was the time to see the other side, to accept that white was not always white and black not always black. That a white cell could be blacker than the darkest crypt.  
  
But they wanted their lives to go on just the way they were, and who was she to blame them. Buffy was in love with Riley, she thought she had found something good and wanted to keep it; Xander just didn't want any complications and Giles - Giles was afraid, Willow could tell by the way he wouldn't look at her and kept fidgeting with his glasses.   
  
Yes, she felt pity for them, and if she had felt it would make any sense, she would have stayed and tried to make them understand. But she knew they were not ready, knew with a knowledge beyond reason and logic, the same way she had known the night before, holding an unconscious Spike in her arms, that she was. She was ready to see the other side, the sparkle in the shadow, the black spot on the sun. She was ready to move on.  
  
Without a word, Willow stood up and looked at her friends with deep regret before turning away.  
  
"Hey, wait a minute, you're leaving? Just like that? Will, I don't get this, what's the matter with you?"   
  
Xander's voice was pleading. But Buffy didn't speak, and her eyes were hard as Willow closed the door behind her for the second time that day. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.   
  
Never mind what had gotten into Willow, Buffy could see a challenge when one was offered to her. If Willow was willing to risk everything she had, fine with her - but it had taken Buffy years of struggle and despair to get what she had now: a nice boyfriend who really loved her and was willing to take care of her and be everything she needed, an acceptable social life, a locker full of nice clothes... and acceptance of who she was and her mission in this life: she was the Slayer, her job was to kill bad vampires, she was good and saved the world from the invasion of evil. It was that simple. She would not have that security challenged by a sudden twist in the conscience of anyone, not even her best friend. If necessary, she would fight, and Giles and Xander would be on her side because that was how it had always been.  
  
Willow was on her own. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
  
As darkness gathered in the cemetery and the walls of Spike's crypt loomed above her, Willow's resolve faltered. This setting had become as familiar as a playground to her, but this time it was different. No Buffy to protect her - but that was not what was worrying Willow, that was not what was making her knees shake and the palms of her hands sweat. If she knocked on that door, if she crossed that threshold, there would be no way back.  
  
Don't be absurd, Willow, she chided herself, wiping her hands on her jeans once more. It's just a little disagreement, that's all. You shouldn't have gone so transcendental on them, you should have tried to explain. But you can always do that, I mean, they're your friends, it's not as if they're going to ban you or anything. The problem is that they haven't been there; well, Buffy has, but she hasn't seen what Spike and I have seen. All I have to do is prove it to her, to all of them, and then we can all be together again and get rid of those people. And Spike will help me because he wants the same thing - well, except for the "all together" bit, perhaps.  
  
Yeah, sure. And he'll turn into a bullfrog if I kiss him, too. Willow raised her hand and knocked.  
  
"Spike? Are you in there?"  
  
"No! Go away!"  
  
"It's me, Willow. Please let me in, I need to talk to you."  
  
"Bad for you! I don't need you or any of you friends, so piss off!"  
  
Please don't shut me out, if you won't take me in, who will now?, Willow thought incoherently. She reacted before panic took over.  
  
"Yes you do need me! I'm the one who hacked my way into the Initiative, remember? If you want to do anything against them, be damn sure that you're going to need me!" Or had panic already taken over? What else could make her talk like this to Spike?  
  
The door to the crypt opened a crack, and a pair of piercing blue eyes shot her a fierce look. "Ah, the little negotiator, are we? You think you have an ace up your sleve, eh? And what makes you suppose I would buy this 'generous offer' act? What did Buffy send you here for?"  
  
"Buffy didn't send me."  
  
She was doing it again. Looking straight into his eyes, searching. Little witch.  
  
Spike opened the door for her to come in.  
  
-----------------------  
  
"But you can't blow the place up, Spike, that's ridiculous!"  
  
"Ridiculous, eh? So, what would you rather do? Ask nicely if they could please stop doing barbarous experiments on all kinds of creatures, including humans, maybe put off the creation of the perfect killer-race for another century or so? Well, I'll be around next century too, and I want this people off my planet, Redhead!"  
  
Willow had never seen him so angry. Not with his human face, anyway. But there was something more; he wasn't just angry, Spike was nervous. Very, very nervous. Willow observed him, sticking his hands in and out of his jeanspockets furiously, pacing the dusty floor of the crypt. He was still paler than usual, and his eyes were restless. There was still that haunted look in them.  
  
"And how would you manage it, anyway? The blowing up thing? You can't hurt humans, remember?"  
  
"No, but YOU can."   
  
He was standing very close to her now, she would have felt his breath on her face, if he had been breathing. Willow shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Strange, to think of how nervous she'd been before she had walked through that door, and now she was not even flinching, standing mere inches away from this undead demon.  
  
Spike held her eyes for a moment longer, and then another, and yet another. This girl had let him drink her blood, and now she was facing up to him like few persons had done, dead or alive - and she was willing to help him. She had a bloody plan! Maybe Buffy and Company had messed up at one point or another, and the world WAS coming to an end. Why else would he be listening to her?   
  
Not that her plan didn't make sense. Theoretically.  
  
"So." Spike tried to speak calmly. Since he'd woken up he felt as if he would be crawling out of his own skin all the time, and he couldn't stop himself from hearing that blasted hum. Not in his ears, but somewhere deep in his mind... no need to show the girl, though, was there? "You sneak in there using your Mac's superpowers, search their files for enough material to convince even our forever loved friend Blondie and her macho-man that these suckers ARE suckers, and then you infiltrate a virus into their system that will cause the erasing of all their harddrives, override of their security system, opening of cells, escaping of prisoners and general chaos. The idea being to convince them that experimenting with demons is bad, or at least to do it somewhere else. Correct?"  
  
"More or less." Willow smiled.  
  
"Never mind that this 'plan' of yours is the stupidest thing I have heard in centuries, and that you could never do that on your own anyway, the question that interests me is: why?"  
  
"What makes you think I couldn't do it an my own? I'm a hacker, and a witch into the bargain, I think I have at least as good a chance as anyone else, thank you very much."  
  
Oooh. So she did have a pride to be wounded.  
  
"You didn't answer my question, Redhead."  
  
"You didn't answer mine."  
  
"I asked first."  
  
Finally, Willow averted her face. "That's my own business."  
  
Spike shook his head in exasperation. The demon mask slipping over his face, he leaned into her and snarled: "Tell me!"  
  
She looked up at him and said: "I will. But not now."  
  
Spike growled again, but the demon was already receding. "Bloody hell-"  
  
Suddenly, he stopped cursing and turned to face the girl again.  
  
"You don't know what it means, don't you?"  
  
"What what means?"  
  
"What you did. You gave me your blood of your own free will."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, it wasn't just a snack."  
  
Shivering inwardly, Willow asked: "What- what DOES it mean, Spike?"  
  
He pondered. "You are marked. Other vampires will know that you let one of them drink from you, and that he let you live."  
  
"Is that good or bad?"  
  
Was he actually winking at her? Must have been a trick of the light. "That depends." Then he was serious again. "And it creates a bond."  
  
"A- bond?"  
  
"It depends on how much of your blood I actually took. I will be able to know where you are, especially if you are very frightened or very excited. And- " Did he really want to tell her this? Well, she had done what she had done, and now things were as they were.  
  
"And?" There was no fear in her voice.  
  
"And I will be drawn to you. When I am very frightened. Or very excited."  
  
"Good, I'll protect you."  
  
"This is no joke, Willow..."  
  
"I know it isn't." It was nice when he said her name.  
  
She hopped down from the stone slate on wich she had been sitting, her feet dangling. "Well, I'll see you."  
  
"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"  
  
"I told you: infiltrate the Initiative, get their files, infect their computers with virus."  
  
Spike snatched his duster. "Ok, let's go."  
  
"Oh, Spike, you can't come with me! What if something goes wrong? I would be arrested, but if they get you again..." Willow's eyes widened in horror.  
  
"Believe me, if these people catch you sabotaging them, you will not have the right to a lawyer and a phonecall, pet. If something goes wrong, you need to fight for your life. And I'm going to be there to make sure the fight goes the right way."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"We are bonded now."  
  
As if that explained anything. Or did it?  
  
"And i might still need you later on. For a snack or something. Besides, I can act as a prisoner if someone spots you."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Didn't you see Star Wars, Red? That's how Chewie and Han Solo rescue princess Leia."  
  
"They don't rescue her. The plan's a mess, they have to blow everything to pieces and end up in the waste-disposal chamber. R2 saves them all, actually."  
  
"Bloody right. This is going to be fun!"  
  
...  
  
"Ah, Spike.... who's supposed to be Chewie here?" 


	7. Chapter 7

Comment:I can't believe I actually made it this far, and it's all thanks to you. My life has been a constant Spike&Willow-rush for the last couple of days, and it's been such fun!! Thanks for enjoying my story.  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
  
In Willow's dorm there was this girl who had a whole wall of her room literally covered with pictures of her dogs. Mr. Puppy eating, Mr. Puppy sleeping on the couch, Mr. Puppy taking a pee, Mr. Puppy wearing a mexican hat... There were three dogs - at least -, but she called them al Mr. Puppy. The girl even kissed the pictures before she went to bed at night.  
  
They had pictures in there too. Not just a wall, but the four walls of a large room covered with pictures from floor to ceiling. Vampires of all races, all colours, large demons, small demons, green demons, yellow demons, grey demons, demons with ridges, with claws, with four eyes or none. And then there were creatures Willow had never spotted in any of the ancient books, and that Spike had never even heard of.  
  
Reluctantly, Willow stepped closer to the wall on her left. "They have little post-it notes for most of them", she said.  
  
"Read them to me." Spike hadn't moved from his position two steps away from the entrance door.   
  
"Subject 3441, Jonesville, Indiana. Unclassified. 14 days of sleep deprivation. Selfmutilation of both eyes."  
  
"More."  
  
"Spike..."  
  
"I said I want to hear more. Read!"  
  
"Subject 5871, White Plains, Colorado. Tunante Demon. Surgical extirpation of all four hands. No food or sleep deprivation. Cause of death unknown."  
  
"More."  
  
"No."  
  
"I said more!"  
  
"Shshsh, Spike, are you out of your mind? They're gonna hear us! I'm not reading anymore, this is making me sick, and you too."   
  
Spike didn't contradict her. His face was like a stone and the colour of ash. His fists were jammed in his pockets, but Willow could see them contracting convulsively.  
  
"Besides, I'm guessing they have rooms and rooms and rooms, all like this one. This seems to be the general headquarters, I bet they have a picture of every single - creature they have captured all over the States, maybe even all over the world, along with notes about every disgusting thing they did to it. We have to take as many of these as we can to show Buffy and the others that this is not just one madwoman at work. And then we have to clear out their computers and get the hell out of here. Spike? Spike! Are you listening to me?"  
  
"Find me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"There has to be a picture of me. Find it."  
  
Willow stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his arm. "Spike, I'm so sorry." He looked down on her face and there it was: sorrow as clean and pure as he had never seen, tears welling up in her eyes. Spike shook his head, took his hand out of his pockets and laid them on the girl's shoulders.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to be here, I'm sorry you have to see this, and I'm sorry you have to be in this with such a bastard as me. I'll try to pull myself together, ok? It's just - hard for me to be down here."  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
"But I mean it about the picture. Otherwise, Buffy might try to convince us that these people just work for Industrial Light&Magic in their spare time. I am the living proof, you understand?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"You know I'm right. So, tell you what we'll do: you scan the walls and I go picking off the pictures after you. That way I won't have to look at them too closely. I think it's better that way."  
  
Willow shuddered, but nodded again, her eyes never leaving Spike's face. His eyes seemed to have cleared up, but there were nervous flickers rushing through them, and he was doing this clenching-unclenching thing with his fists again. She turned to the wall again and began looking at the pictures, trying to clear her mind. She wasn't really SEEING all these creatures, tied down, screaming, bleeding, dead or wishing to be, she was just looking for Spike. And when she found him, she could forget all the other faces, dozens of them, hundreds, thousands of them, each going through his or her own personal hell, that had nothing to do with the hell they had all come from. That was another thing she was to learn: there was not just one hell. Man could create an infinite variety of hells, and she was standing before a selection of the very best.  
  
The picture of Spike was not one of the worst. It must have been taken a couple of days before she had found him, because he was standing up and seemed to be alert. That's all he was doing, just standing there, hands hanging limply down his sides, looking straight ahead. The white glaring walls were surrounding him, and he was all alone. Waiting for something to be done with him. Out of options, out of hope. Defeated.  
  
A white, blinding surge of hot fury raged through Willow's body. If she focused all her energy right now, she was sure she could blow up the entire place, she could just WILL it to explode and it would. She drew a ragged, deep breath, and turned towards Spike, in time to see him collapse on the floor, eyes wide open and rolling up in the sockets. "SPIKE!"  
  
His knees were almost touching his chin, he was just one tense ball of muscle and nerve, head banging against the floor. Then he threw up. The floor and Willow's hands, holding his head, were stained in red, but Spike's seizure seemed to be passing. For a minute, he just lay there in Willow's arms, trembling, unable to speak. Willow's heart raced in her breast. She could hear footsteps outside. Oh, they had heard them, they were coming for them, and what would they do to Spike?  
  
The footsteps passed along. Willow turned Spike gently over, so that he came to lay in her lap, face looking up at her. "Spike... you ok?"  
  
He coughed, then rasped: "No, not ok." He paused, and then: "Got angry, did you?"  
  
"Oh God, this was because of me? I did this to you?", she gasped, horrified.  
  
He coughed again, then laid a hand on her cheek. "Well, next time you might try to take a deep breath and count to twothousand backward."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Spike, I had no idea this could happen, I- it's because of the... the bond, is it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He didn't like the darkness clouding the girl's eyes, so he spoke again: "It's just because we were in the same room, and I'm not exactly in my best shape. Nothing to worry about, ok? Hey, Willow - ok?"  
  
She nodded, but the darkness didn't leave her eyes.  
  
"Hey, Redhead, got a cancerstick for me?"  
  
Finally, Willow's eyes cleared and she pressed a fist to her mouth to repress a giggle. She knew this was not funny, she was merely inches away from a nervous breakdown. No time for that.  
  
"Spike, can you walk? We need to get out of here."  
  
"Yeah, just give me a second." He rolled over to his knees, and Willow slipped his arm around her shoulders and helped him to stand. He leaned heavily on her for a moment, then straightened up. "I'm fine now, let's go." 


	8. Chapter 8

Comment:Well, so good, so far. It's been quite an exciting journey, at least for me, and I hope for some of you too. I know I didn't get really hardcore on the W/S stuff. Believe me, I wanted to, but the story and characters seemed to have other plans. I hope you're not too disappointed. And I KNOW it's quite an open ending, and not a very encouraging one at that - but I enjoyed this so much that I didn't want to make this goodbye too final. More like a see you later. Don't know about you, but I can't wait to see how this bond between Willow and Spike turns out, if the Scoobies will ever be the same...  
  
Thanks again for being out there and enjoying this with me. E-mail me if you want me to notify you when I start with "Part II" (you notice the WHEN, not IF!!).  
  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
  
Willow would always ascribe their getting in and out of the Initiative's facilities under Sunnydale to a miracle. Nothing but, pure and simple. Something, someone, somewhere, wanted them to get out of there unnoticed. There was no other explanation, and, frankly, Willow didn't need any. Never question a miracle.  
  
Once back in Spike's crypt, they were both silent and sort of embarrassed. No matter what they say, seeing someone puke (in fact, having him puke all over you) doesn't make for more intimacy. Especially if you have caused that someone's sickness by previously feeding him your blood and then having an attack of irrational fury.   
  
Spike sat on the floor with his back against a wall, pretending to be casual as hell, but Willow could see his hands shaking. She was fishing the pictures out of the pockets of his duster and arranging them hurriedly into a neat stack. The white sides up. Spike's picture she had tucked into her jeans' back pocket, hoping it wouldn't be needed as an evidence. She didn't want Buffy to see it for reasons that were somewhat murky even for Willow herself - like the soft sand you plant your foot in when you step into a river with troubled waters where you can't see the bottom.  
  
When Spike spoke, it sounded as he were far, far away.  
  
"Willow, would you do me a favor?"  
  
"Sure, Spike, what is it?"  
  
"Call me William."  
  
Slowly, Willow turned around to look at him. He was looking at the floor in front of him, crushing a cigarette-butt under his bootheel. She was afraid to say anything, afraid to move, afraid to breathe too hard, anything that might dispel the heavy magic those three words had wound around the moment, around the two of them. So she simply stood and waited.  
  
He looked up to meet her eyes. "That's my name, you know."  
  
She nodded, still not knowing what to say.  
  
Spike jerked his head in frustration, then he stood up and began to pace the dusty stone floor.  
  
"I'd like to hear it once in a while, that's all.- Just when we're alone, you and I."  
  
Willow wasn't quite prepared to face up to what the idea of being alone with Spike and calling him "William" made her feel, so instead she settled for: "It's a beautiful name."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about beautiful... it's just a name. But it's mine. It's what I am. Or what I used to be. At least part of it." He hesitated, then lit up another cigarette. "You know what got to me most about those pictures? It wasn't the pictures themselves, or the things they had done to the poor bastards. It was what it said at the beginning of each of those notes."  
  
"The beginning?" Willow looked confused.  
  
"Subject 3441, subject 5871, subject 6200... Hostile 17. That's what I was. Not Spike, not William, not even the bloody Bleached Vampire, just - a number. And the fact that I am hostile."  
  
But you ARE hostile. Or would love to be if you hadn't that chip in you head. Willow thought it, but was silent.  
  
Spike looked at her as if he'd read her thoughts. Maybe he had.  
  
"I am what I am, Willow. As you are what you are. That is all we have. Our name. Our identity. I am William. And yes, I am Spike too, and I like it, and I'm a number of other things you may or may mot find out out about, but I am NOT Hostile 17."  
  
He smiled slightly. "How would you like to be, say, Witch 32?"  
  
Willow smiled back. "There are not 32 witches in Sunnydale."  
  
"Want to come look for them?"  
  
He was standing very close again, only this time he wasn't menacing, or teasing, and he didn't want anything from her. He was just - close...  
  
"We... we better go find Buffy. That was the idea, wasn't it? Show her the evidence to convince her that the Initiative is really bad, so we can move against them all together."  
  
"That was your idea, yes."  
  
Willow's heart sank. "Are you not coming?"  
  
"I don't want to fight the Initiative alongside with Buffy, Red. What I want is stick to the original plan and blow the whole place to pieces, and if Sunnydale gets blown to hell in the process, well, that's two more cans of beer for me to celebrate. But-", at the sight of the girl's troubled eyes he relented, "I don't really have an option here, have I?"  
  
"There always is an option... William."  
  
"You believe that, do you?"  
  
"Yes, I do. You were right: we are what we are. And we are because we choose to do what we do. Move along or turn around, fight or lay down your weapons, kill or-"  
  
"-be killed."  
  
Her eyes were sad. She wanted to lay her hand on his cheek the way he had done before in the cell, but she didn't quite dare to. Yet.  
  
"I'm going to see Buffy now, William. Are you coming with me?"  
  
She was asking him to move along, to lay down his weapons. And with the glare and the hum of the white cell still behind his eyes, with this strange girl's blood cursing through his long-dead body, he found he was willing to do that - for now.  
  
-------------------  
  
Everyone had left. For the first time in so many weeks, Giles had his house to himself. He sat alone in his living room, the late night show was on TV, every light turned on - and yet he felt the shadows crowding in on him. Worse shadows than those that usually stalked Sunnydale at night. Much, much worse.  
  
After what had seemed like a final confrontation between Buffy and Willow, their meeting a couple of hours ago had been surprisingly smooth. Willow and Spike had infiltrated the Initiative, and Buffy's fuming at their taking off on their on on such a dangerous adventure quickly subsided when Willow pulled a stack of pictures out of her pocket. The torture to wich some of these creatures had been subjected made even Buffy flinch and shudder in disgust from time to time. But she looked the whole stack though, picture by picture.   
  
When she was finished, she put the pictures back on the table and simply said: "I'll have to talk to Riley."  
  
There wasn't very much else to be said. They were a team again, so it seemed. Willow had told them she had tried to wipe out the Initiative's computers and put a virus in them, but she and Spike had been in a hurry, fearing to be caught, and she wasn't sure if she had gotten it right. They would have to wait, and come up with another plan if it hadn't worked.  
  
Buffy was very silent during this discussion - wich was more like a report than a discussion, because no one actually said anything. Xander ate cookies like he had to put on reserves for the longest winter in history and shot Willow worried glances; Giles kept cleaning his glasses and sipping at his teacup without ever swallowing; Buffy looked politely interested and nodded from time to time, but her thoughts were clearly somewhere else. The happy companionship they used to share, the feeling that they were invincible together - that was all gone, and Giles wondered if they would ever get it back. How could so much be lost in so little time?  
  
And then there was Spike. He hadn't said much either, had in fact only spoken up to ask for the blood reserves Giles still stored in his fridge. Then he had sat on the kitchen counter, with his feet propped on a chair, holding a cup of microwave-warmed blood in his hands and looking at Willow. Looking at Willow. Looking at Willow. And then looking at Willow some more.  
  
And now Giles remembered. This was what had been haunting him for the last day, what had been lurking in his mind, behind his worry for Willow, and Buffy, and the Initiative, nagging, not letting loose. That look. It was the same look he had seen on Spike's face when he had come down to find him awake and talking to Willow. And now he knew where he had seen that look before. It was in a church.  
  
He must have been eight. There was a very severe typhus outbreak in his town, many children were dying. Rupert was not ill, but about half of his classmates were missing, they were either in the hospital or the graveyard. One day, the teacher had taken them all to church. She said they were going to pray for the recovery of their little friends, and for the little souls of those little friends who were already in heaven. Miss Graves had a habit of making everything little.   
  
Rupert had never been to a church, except when he was baptised. It was very big and drafty, and the benches were extremely uncomfortable. They all sat there with their hands together and their heads lowered for a while, and then Miss Graves began to usher them out. In passing one of the side chapels, Rupert saw a man kneeling in front of a statue of the Holy Virgin. His hands were folded, his face upturned to the face of the woman of stone before him. There was no hope in the eyes of the man, no plea, not even despair, only a stoniness to match that of the staue. A chill crept over Rupert's back, and he ran to join the others.  
  
Outside, he asked Miss Graves who that man was. "Oh, that's little Johnny MacDonald's father. Little Johnny is very ill, you know, I hope you prayed for his little soul, because he will be going to heaven very soon. It's a shame they even let these people into church."  
  
"Why? He was praying, Miss Graves."  
  
"That man? Oh, of course he wasn't praying, child. God knows I shouldn't use this word in front of you, but he's an atheist. Yes, he doesn't believe in God, and proud he is of it, too. He writes all those articles in the racey papers. And now God is punishing him by taking away his little son, poor little innocent soul. Johnny will go to heaven, Rupert."  
  
"And his father will go to hell?"  
  
"Of course he will!"  
  
- That was the look Giles had seen on Spike's face, twice, in this same living room, looking at Willow. The look of a man who didn't believe in God, who was proud of it, a man who lay at God's feet knowing he would go to hell - and yet he prayed. 


End file.
